


Finding Pinky

by BATTLEFAIRIES, SnippetsRUs



Series: The Motley Mayhem [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Ancient ruin, Centaurs, Clerics, Dark Elves, Devils, Drow, Fan Characters, Fiends, Fighter, Gen, Halloween, Healing, Horse piss, Moon Goddess - Freeform, Morningstar - Freeform, Pit Fiend, Place of power, Priest, Ranger - Freeform, Selûne, Siblings, Silverymoon, Sorceress, Veil between the worlds, Vhaeraun - Freeform, Warrior - Freeform, imp, priestess - Freeform, rogue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BATTLEFAIRIES/pseuds/BATTLEFAIRIES, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnippetsRUs/pseuds/SnippetsRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clumsy, incorrigible and stubborn, Hulda Swanmantle is a combo of sorcery, trouble and the divine magic of Selûne, goddess of the moon. Grouchy, cautious and misplaced, Rhyl'lyn Zinard is a thieving warrior-scout of Vhaeraun, stealing what he can't kill or run away from. They've met several times already, but this time it's under far more dangerous circumstances. Hulda's clumsiness will not make things any better, either. With the threat of demonic and undead hordes on their doorstep, ancient ruins on a place of power and an ambitious drow necromancer, things look grim. The fact that this happens on the last day of Marpenoth, when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest, doesn't help. How will they manage? Read and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Marpenoth's Eve

It was supposed to be just another mission for his church. Their young had stepped out of line to the point where they put their own lives foolishly in danger. Not for Vhaeraun, nor for the surface clan they belonged to, but for personal glory. Such were the ways of the young, but unlike their spider-worshipping kin in the Night Below, the elders didn't have the luxury of letting them run off and get themselves killed.

In short, it was a mission for a drow and meant to be solved by drow only. It had nothing to do with her, with which she agreed. Yet here she was, the human woman of Illuskan descent - a sorceress and priestess - that he'd come to know as Hulda Swanmantle, once again crossing paths with him. She listened intently to what he had to say, nodded her agreement that she had no business with his people, but stubbornly refused to leave. Out of all the humans he'd met in his life, she was one of a rare few that managed to successfully... trouble him.

“I'm on a pilgrimage,” she said insistently, but for what purpose or for whom she didn't say. Not that it was difficult to guess. No doubt it was for Selûne, perhaps restoring these desecrated ruins into the holy temple it once was. Rhyl'lyn was a warrior, and while knowledgeable and fairly devoted to his god, where divinity was concerned, he preferred to leave such deep musings to the clergy.

What he understood, however, was that this place held a lot of power – and that this day was something certain human spellcasters referred to as when the veil between the world of the dead and the living was at its thinnest. A necromancer's party day.

Traditionally, this meant that followers of benevolent deities cast protective wards to guard against any undead intrusions and sent their finest battle-clerics out to keep a vigilant watch. Druids and other followers of nature's balance did something similar, gathering their young together and lighting lanterns for the dead. Even followers of more malevolent deities, like his own, kept to themselves, as it was rumoured that any undead summoned on this day would be too many and too powerful for the caster to control. Naturally, anyone who tried such a stunt on a day like this got severely punished.

Unsurprisingly, this was exactly what the quartet of young drow was trying to accomplish. The leader was a male necromancer named Quilyl, a bit too full of himself even by drow standards, but nevertheless a fine wizard and one the high priest very much wanted safely returned. Quilyl had persuaded two warriors and one of the acolytes to join him, the warriors being two of Rhyl'lyn's own students. The acolyte he didn't know, but the high priest had stressed how this foolish behaviour wasn't Vhaeraun's will, so if Rhyl'lyn managed to persuade him, then his warriors would soon follow, leaving the wizard alone. With luck, he should have the foolish children back with as little damage as possible. At least until the next day, when it was time for training.

“A most peculiar day to be on a pilgrimage,” he remarked, to which Hulda nodded.

“It's also peculiar for a drow to be in the ruins of a Selûnite temple,” she shot back, “but that's probably related to my vision.”

“Care to share this vision with me?” he asked, fully expecting her to decline or even demand he share some information in return. To his surprise, she did neither.

“Oh, well, those four young ones of yours will unleash a horde of undead that devours them,” she began, and there was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke, “and we'll be caught in the storm if we don't stop them.”

Rhyl'lyn immediately felt scepticism wash over him, but not because he didn't believe in visions. He was accustomed to the clerics of his own race receiving them from Vhaeraun, and some Illuskan women were said to have a peculiar spiritual connection with their deities that sometimes was just as strong. Something to do with ancient Netheril, according to the rumours. What made him sceptical was the fact that a Selûnite had a vision about his fellow drow. Selûne didn't wish for her former temple to become a breeding ground for the undead, obviously – fairly understandable, from what he'd come to know about her. It also meant he and Hulda weren't at cross-purposes. However, it was a foreign concept, that Selûne would involve herself in drow affairs, even if this was a place sacred to her in the past. He briefly considered contacting his high priest and telling him about this new development, but he decided against it. Hulda was only one human, after all, and while clumsy, annoying, pushy and stubborn, she respected his beliefs and knew to make herself scarce when she had to.

Said human smiled, and while he knew her visions to be accurate, he was pretty certain she'd said “we” just so she could tag along. “I'm sure you can talk them out of it, though. Then I can perform the correct rituals. Everyone wins.”

He didn't share even a fraction of that optimism, especially considering how covetous his own people were of places of power. For now they had a common goal, but should the high priest decide to devote this place to Vhaeraun, it would be the end of blondie.

If she was aware of this, however, she didn't show it. He briefly wondered if Selûnites were taught about drow religion – Hulda had proven quite knowledgeable about other faiths in the past, after all. If they were, did she then understand what could happen to her? As soon as that thought struck him he shook it aside. It wasn't his problem.

He got up, as did she, sending out the signal that she fully intended to come with him. Biting back a sigh, he quietly accepted that fact. Travelling through these treacherous woods was hard enough on his own – having this clumsy human tag along would make it practically impossible. So he thought, at least, until he saw her sprint ahead of him, motioning for him to follow, her steps certain. His jaw dropped, not just because of her blatant audacity, which he had yet to grow accustomed to, but the fact that she could move through the trees so well. He followed, more instinctively than out of any genuine wish to do so, feeling a bit of respect grow for his human companion... only for that feeling to fall off a cliff when he saw her slip on a tree root wet from rain the day before and land face-first in the mud. Shooting a glare at her back, he merely stepped past her and continued on his way.

Reaching the ruins took a good ten minutes, but when they finally arrived it was to a large, open area. Despite the rot in the woodwork, the foundation was still sturdy. The south part alone, which they concluded had probably served as the entrance hall, connected to not only the stairs that led up to the centre of the place, but also touched upon the west and east sections. Crumbling stone walls surrounded the outer perimeter, but they were more sturdy around the central area. Sturdy and tall, Rhyl'lyn noted. They should hide Hulda from view. They tread carefully around the main entrance, wary of any traps or pitfalls. Some rooms had marble floors, much to their surprise.

“Marble gets terribly cold during winter,” Hulda muttered, to which Rhyl'lyn nodded his agreement. It was a material more commonly used in lands further south.

“Perhaps your fellows employed magic to keep it warm,” he mused, but she shook her head.

“It would be a waste of magical resources,” she argued, “and an unnecessary strain on the Weave. Selûne is one of Mystra's mothers. She wouldn't want to wear her daughter out, and this is extended to her followers."

Rhyl'lyn, unfamiliar with this being named Mystra beyond his basic knowledge of the Weave, blinked. Not only was it a bit of lore he was new to, but the concept of a creature being born from more than one mother had him confused. “Of course,” he said sarcastically after his initial confusion settled down, but instead of the woman taking offence, she merely laughed.

“It can be terribly confusing at times,” she said with a smile, “but I shall spare you the religious lectures. I'm sure your high priest would have both our heads if I did that.”

He shrugged. In truth, his devotion lay with Vhaeraun, and no amount of lore on other religions would change that. Still, he knew his high priest was concerned about possible conversions to other faiths by merely learning the name of another deity, so he kept his meetings with Hulda a secret.

Rhyl'lyn's tracking spell, a little gift given to him by one of the wizards, reacted strongly to the east, and so he headed there. Hulda went west, fortunately, and while she had a penchant for trouble, he was fairly certain that she wouldn't run across the drowlings before him. Finding encouragement in this, he slipped into a dark corridor.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hulda had several reasons for being at this site, and only one involved Rhyl'lyn and his fellow drow. Thanks to the old decree of Myrkul, former god of the dead, of letting spirits of the dead and demons alike pour through to the Prime on the last day of Marpenoth, this was probably the most dangerous night to be outdoors. Even with the merciful alterations of Kelemvor, the one currently wearing the mantle of death, she was far from safe. A shiver went down her spine. The sooner she was done with her appointed task, the sooner she could go back home.

High Priestess Solyn, bless her soul, had divined that this ancient site to Selûne was the top breeding ground for fiends and undead on this particular night. As soon as the veil was at its thinnest, hordes of them would come through. It was therefore, in her mind, a good idea to consecrate the ruins in the name of Selûne, letting her divine power flow back into this place and seal it off. Not only would it reduce the amount of monsters coming through, but it would also reclaim a place of power in the Moonmaiden's name. This was Hulda's first and most important task.

Her second task was to retrieve an artefact called the Moon's Rod, a weapon possessing powers that only a Selûnite cleric could unleash. While she fully intended to return it to the church, the thought of testing those powers tickled her funny bone. Of course, she'd spent a long time reading up on this one bard tale about it, when she hadn't been distracted by her mother yelling at her for not doing her chores on time. The last thing she would do was to test the powers of an artefact without first knowing a thing or two about it, but she fully intended to test it all the same.

The sound of hooves beating against the ground reached her ears, but it was faint. Hulda looked up, wondering if it was horses she heard or something else. This area was said to be visited by centaurs occasionally, but Solyn had reassured her they wouldn't be this close today. Not that Hulda felt she had anything to fear from centaurs, but misunderstandings happened easily. Not to mention they were known to have frighteningly short tempers.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a vial of holy water and set to work on the cleansing ritual. She would need to purify the entire ruin, which meant walking all around the area. Unlike Rhyl'lyn, Hulda knew the best location for summoning the dead on this night, and it was the central area where the altar stood. She would therefore save that area for last, once Rhyl'lyn got them all out of there.

The words came to her easily, despite Hulda having done the ritual only once before. There was no visual improvement on the ruins, but the air grew more crisp and the atmosphere wasn't as thick with grief. It was already dark this time of year, but Hulda had a round, pale stone in hand - a _moon note_. It was blessed by Selûne's sacred moonfire, allowing the one who carried it to activate a specific spell once per day. That spell created three pale, heatless orbs of light that danced above the stone - _dancing lights_ as it was called - and they lit up the path before her.

The ritual took its time, and even as she finished and emptied the first vial, she was only halfway through the western portion. It took yet another vial to finish – fortunately she'd brought many of them – before she could move south. Three vials went with the cleansing of the southern part, two with the eastern and it was with a sigh that she completed the ritual in the north. At this point she could only wait for Rhyl'lyn to persuade the young drow to abandon this place, so she sat down on one of the larger rocks and got some rest. While she was far from weak, divine rituals took their toll.

Fishing out an enchanted pendant that the high priestess had given her, Hulda placed it against her heart and willed its power to activate. Next thing she knew, her mind swam through a vast ocean of thoughts, dreams and emotions. It was enough to make her fall off the rock, but her willpower held firm, her mind seeking out the one she meant to connect with. There was a moment's pause, and then the warm, liquid power of the Moonmaiden filled her. She felt surprise come from the other end, and then her name was spoken into her mind.

 _Hulda? Hulda, is that you_? It was Solyn's voice, and despite the surprise, Hulda sensed only the spiritual calm and collectedness that she'd come to associate with the elf.

 _Yes_ , Hulda replied mentally, still feeling a bit unused to this method of communicating.

 _For what reason do you reach into my mind_? Solyn asked further. _Have you found the Moon's Rod yet?_

 _No, not yet_ , Hulda answered, _but I have consecrated all the parts of the temple save for the middle. The drow are still there, so I will have to wait for them to leave._

There was a moment's pause before Solyn replied. _You are sure of this... Rhyl'lyn?_

 _I'm sure that he really wants the best for his tribe_ , Hulda reasoned. _He's pragmatic, to be true, but with a soft side that's rare in his people. Besides, his high priest is with him in this. None of them will want to test the Powers on a night like this. He will bring them back, knocking them out if he has to._

 _Very well_ , Solyn concluded. _In the meantime, focus on finding the Moon's Rod, and once you've found it, report back to me. We cannot allow it to fall into anyone else's hands. When you're done with the cleansing ritual, use the ring I gave you to teleport back to the temple._

 _Understood._ Hulda disconnected her mind from the high priestess', got back up on her feet and started her search.

Seeing as the ruins had nothing to offer, she took a look around the graveyard. Even though it was dark, the ground was undoubtedly still blessed with Selûne's power, thus she felt perfectly safe. She wasn't about to start digging up the graves, however, as that would be sacrilege, not to mention she didn't have the proper tools for digging. As she approached one in particular, belonging to one named Aud Coldforge, she noticed something sticking out of the ground behind the tombstone. Bending down in order to take a closer look, she noticed it looked like a handle. She put the moon note aside and used a hand-sized shovel to dig the handle out, finally pulling it free once most of it was uncovered. The action made her fall back on her rump, and after a few, disoriented seconds she looked into her lap to see a very plain, black and completely unimpressive morningstar.

While the Moon's Rod was indeed said to be "like the moon, with stinging starlight shooting out at the darkness" – which could very easily translate into a morningstar – Hulda doubted it was one so shabby-looking. She picked it up in her hand, meaning to throw it away, but just as she did, the thing glowed with a bright blue, ethereal light. Her eyes grew wide, for this part she knew very well; in the hands of a Selûnite servant, the morningstar's powers would awaken, one of which was the ability to strike ghosts and spirits like one would mortals. The weapon would glow in the dark, thus serving as a beacon to the priestess. Or the priest, she reminded herself, as there had been one male half-elf graduating with her, back when she was still an acolyte. It was easy to forget sometimes, being surrounded by women most of the time.

It could be just another magical morningstar, though, that also had the power to strike ghosts and spirits and glow upon a Selûnite's touch. There was one way to confirm for certain. Hulda sang a song written specifically for the Moon's Rod, and as the words flowed past her lips, the morningstar began to hum. The light expanded past the physical limitations of the weapon and lit up the graveyard with a pure, white light. Any doubts she had were now gone – this morningstar was indeed the Moon's Rod. Excitement bubbled inside her, and she immediately contacted the high priestess. Solyn was pleased to hear of the Moon's Rod's retrieval, but urged Hulda to do a cleansing ritual for the graveyard, too, if she hadn't already. What safety Hulda had felt earlier washed away as Solyn informed her that all the dead would dig their way out of their graves if it wasn't tended to. Hulda wasted no time purifying the place.

It was upon her return to the northern part of the ruins that it happened. Her foot got stuck in a crack between two stone steps and made her fall. She crashed into the stairs, scraping her knees and elbows. One particularly sharp stone cut into her thigh and drew blood. She groaned and grimaced, but bit back her scream. The graveyard had been shielded from the drowlings inside the ruins, but to make a loud noise now would mess up everything. Her moon note fell out of her hand, however, disappearing inside a crack along with the communication pendant that hung around her neck. She heard a metallic sound and looked down only to see a ring fall out of her pocket and disappear into the darkness as well. A ring meant specifically for instant teleportation back to Silverymoon. Her heart sank. How on earth would she get to safety before the monsters appeared?

She still had the Moon's Rod in her hand, and its light helped her find her way. Getting back up, Hulda tried to search for her items when something sharp bit into her neck. Her eyes grew wide, confusion welled up inside her and she looked back to see a small, lithe form holding a hand crossbow in her – for the shape was distinctly female – delicate hand. The female's face was angular, clearly displaying an elven heritage, but the dark skin and white hair informed Hulda that she was a drow. Hulda felt her body go limp, even as she tossed the morningstar at the dark elf. Predictably enough, the drow dodged, but not fast enough to avoid the Moon's Rod biting into her arm. The sound of the curse slipping past the dark elf's lips was enough to make Hulda smile, even as three more darts bit into her skin. She fell to the ground, darkness encasing her, but the smile was still stuck on her face.

 

 

* * *

 

Shur'niss hissed and clutched her arm. The morningstar had hurt more than she'd expected it to, especially the glowing bits that were still stuck in her arm. When she leaned down and picked the morningstar up, however, none of its pointy ends were missing. She frowned, silently impressed with such magic, but hardly about to admit it. On either side of her stood her sisters, one regarding Shur'niss' arm with mild amusement and the other staring at the Selûnite priestess with clear disdain.

"So this is the one Rhyl'lyn's all infatuated with?" Jhanbaste, the one glaring at the blonde, stated. "I don't see it. She's just another clumsy and stupid human to me."

"The morningstar's rather shabby, too," Aun'kacha pointed out, "yet the wound on our sister's arm is real. It seems the high priest was right in his assessment to subdue her first."

Jhanbaste scoffed, though she didn't argue. While the blonde wasn't fat, she was certainly big-boned and no doubt heavy. Shur'niss got help from Aun'kacha to pull out the glowing bits and drank a healing potion afterwards to heal her arm. The trio then did their best to carry Rhyl'lyn's human off to the central part of the ruins. Upon arriving, it was to a most surprised-looking warrior. He'd clearly not expected them to be there, let alone for them to be dragging the blonde with them.

"The high priest's orders," Jhanbaste informed him, stepping between him and the unconscious human. "He will arrive shortly if you seek further explanation."

Aun'kacha groaned as she straightened her back. "I can't wait for the day when we can afford a minotaur slave or two. This work is much too hard without them."

"We might not strongly support it, but at least humans with some elven blood in them are easier to carry," Shur'niss added with a tired grimace. She then turned to Rhyl'lyn. "Sate my curiosity if you will – what do you see in this one? She's clumsy, stupid and terribly foolish. Finding her, with that blinding light she activated from her weapon, was far too easy, and subduing her even more so. She'd be dead by now if not for the high priest's orders."

Rhyl'lyn's eyebrows narrowed. "I don't owe you any explanations. Suffice it to say I don't actively seek her out, she just always happens to cross my path."

Shur'niss shrugged. "Then kill her."

He didn't respond, instead turning his attention back to the four drowlings.

"Have you come to take us back too?" Quilyl asked the trio of females.

Aun'kacha was the one to reply. "No, we're here on different business. You may stay, if you like, but do us all a favour and refrain from performing that ritual of yours. The high priest won't like it."

Quilyl's face paled, and he gave only a simple nod in response. Apparently, Rhyl'lyn had worked his diplomatic ways with them already, and Aun'kacha's final warning was all it took to convince them to step away from the altar. There was a moment's silence, and then high priest Nymolg appeared before them through instant teleportation. He was flanked by a dozen warriors clad in the finest drow chainmail and carrying the finest drow weapons. Nymolg himself wore a well-crafted breastplate, his hair braided so as to create the illusion of a spider's web. A Vhaeraunite though he was, he still held a great deal of admiration for the arachnids that their brethren in the Underdark outright worshipped. Twin short swords rested on his hips, and his _piwafwi_ \- a drow-crafted cloak spun from spider silk - was as well-made as that of any matron mother.

His steel-hard gaze travelled across the group before finally settling on the human. Just like Jhanbaste, he looked thoroughly unimpressed. Then his eyes went to Rhyl'lyn.

"Well done, Rhyl'lyn," the priest said to the warrior, whose surprise had now turned into confusion. "You persuaded our young from proceeding with the ritual, as I ordered you to." Despite his feelings, Rhyl'lyn bowed in acceptance of the praise. "You must no doubt wonder why we're here. Fear not, for it is Vhaeraun's will." He pointed at the unconscious blonde. "Bring the human to the altar."

Rhyl'lyn's heart sank, but he kept his expression perfectly neutral. He'd known this could happen, in fact other humans had been sacrificed to Vhaeraun before. Why this was affecting him, he didn't quite understand. He could only watch as Hulda was dragged off by the warriors and slapped awake. She stirred, her eyes unfocused, before finally settling on Nymolg.

"Good evening, Hulda Swanmantle," the high priest said with feigned courtesy, "and welcome to tonight's ritual."

Hulda's face fell, Rhyl'lyn gritted his teeth and Nymolg grinned viciously. It seemed the night was only about to begin.


	2. Sacrifice of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last off we left Hulda in the hands of a drow high priest of Vhaeraun and a large contingency of drow warriors. Drow, drow, drow - why is it always drow? And what sinister plan do they have for our lil' Selûnite? Read and find out~

"How long was I out?" Hulda blurted out before Nymolg could say anything else. "I didn't snore, did I? My brothers claim I snore, but that could just be them hearing their own snoring. Now, mother, on the other hand, she snores-"

"Silence!" Nymolg boomed, effectively stopping Hulda's rant. Despite his raised voice, he looked more confused than offended. Rhyl'lyn, on his part, wasn't the least bit surprised. Over by the three sisters, Aun'kacha stifled a laugh. "You've been out only a few minutes, hardly enough time to start snoring."

Relief came to Hulda's face, as if being captured by drow and used for a ritual was perfectly normal. "Thank goodness. It's such an unattractive thing to do."

Nymolg looked to Rhyl'lyn. "Does she always speak out of turn?"

In reply, the warrior merely raised his hands and took a step back to signal that he wanted no part in it.

The priest scoffed as his eyes went back to the wide-eyed human in front of him. "I suppose that's what we get when they're not raised as slaves."

"Your hair is fancy," she said all of a sudden. "It makes me think of the Weave. How did you get it arranged like that?" The ensuing silence was unmistakably awkward.

"Magic," he replied flatly, "now be silent." Then he turned his back on her, his warriors keeping her in place.

Hulda frowned, a signature expression informing Rhyl'lyn exactly what she thought of Nymolg. He bit his tongue, knowing perfectly well that he couldn't save her. The youngsters he'd come to bring home, however, he could do something for. "High priest Nymolg, if I may?"

The priest nodded at Hulda. "You have no chance of freeing her."

"That's not it," the warrior clarified. "I merely wish to take the youngsters with me back home."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Aun'kacha cut in, drawing both their gazes. "We spotted some centaurs on the way here, and they seemed quite angry."

"Considering how much ground they've lost to us these past tendays," Shur'niss cut in, "it wouldn't be surprising if it's us they're angry with."

"So you're saying we're in more danger outside the ruins than inside them?" Rhyl'lyn asked, earning nods from the three sisters.

"If you think to spare them from witnessing what is about to happen..." Nymolg sent the warrior an unimpressed look.

"No," Rhyl'lyn shook his head, "only to bring them to safety, as I was originally instructed to."

"We can handle the sight of death," the acolyte cut in eagerly, to which the other three nodded in agreement.

"Good," Nymolg said to the quartet with a finishing tone, "but she won't die. Not yet. All we need is a bit of blood, and then this place will be the safest in the Realms." Rhyl'lyn felt relief wash over him, though he couldn't fathom why. Nymolg turned to the fighter. "Your... devotion is appreciated, but misplaced. After this ritual, no centaur or other enemy will be able to lay a hand on us."

That made Rhyl'lyn's relief turn into concern, especially considering what he knew of Nymolg's notions of "safety". Hulda was pulled up on her feet, though she insisted that there was no need to help her. The pair of warriors shot odd looks her way, their confusion blatant as they looked at each other and their weapons, as if wondering whether or not they should punish her. Her eyes went to Rhyl'lyn, but there was no blame or hurt in them, only a strange, faraway look that he couldn't place. Then she smiled.

"We'll be alright," she said, though her smile died away when one of the warriors grabbed her hand and pushed her closer to the high priest. Nymolg unsheathed his dagger and used it to cut into her palm, drawing blood that he dipped his index finger into in order to paint a small circle on the altar. He then recited a name Rhyl'lyn had never heard before. The warrior didn't look away and Hulda looked on with equal parts confusion and curiosity. Roughly and violently, a cold, terrible sensation began in the pit of Rhyl'lyn's stomach and spread out. For a moment it was as if the planes themselves shifted and a terrible _wrongness_ permeated the air. Hulda's face fell and she watched as a horror from the Nine Hells materialised before her very eyes. Red scales for skin on a large figure, fangs dripping with venom, bat wings, clawed hands and a long tail. Before her goddess' sacred altar stood a pit fiend, the greatest of devilkin.

"Just a few drops of blood," Nymolg marvelled, drawing her and Rhyl'lyn's attention, "with no need for a summoning circle, or a protective circle to keep it in check." His eyes were fixed on the creature before him, but it was clear he meant her blood. Rhyl'lyn's mind went numb – Hulda had summoned that thing?

"What is the meaning of this?" the pit fiend asked, his voice thick with malice, his aura alone almost knocking everyone off their feet. His evil eyes went from her to the drow next to her, and even Nymolg had to take a step back. "I sense the blood pact, but I don't recall making a deal with drow. Give me one reason not to tear you apart, dark elf!"

"It was not I who summoned you," Nymolg was quick to say, "but I control the one who did."

The pit fiend examined Hulda from top to toe. "With a blade to her throat," he sneered. "How terribly original." His gaze went back to the priest. "To summon me on the last night of Marpenoth, you must have a death wish. Moreover, this female's blood is impure.” The fiend stated, waving a clawed hand twice the size of a shovel at her, dismayed. “She reeks of lesser humans. I'd deny you an imp's fart for the blood you've given me.”

”I could give all of it,” the high priest suggested. “Her life... and soul, too, if you will.”

The devil roared, but in an odd way, and Rhyl'lyn realised he'd just heard a pit fiend's annoyed sigh. ”The contract strictly forbids us from taking the bloodbearer's life. Otherwise, nothing would have prevented us from murdering and enslaving whoever bored us, if we grew tired of the pact.” He said, giving Hulda a meaningful look.

”What else is in the contract?” she demanded. The pit fiend blinked at her brazen response. Nymolg raised his hand to strike her, but must have realised that wasn't prudent with the fiend present, because he retracted it fast.

”I remember this fearless attitude from when your ancestor summoned me, millennia ago. It would have been a laudable trait, if it hadn't pertained to someone of such a lowly race as humanity,” the pit fiend stated, though whether that was a compliment or an insult was anyone's guess.

"So, wait, how does this work?" Hulda asked before the high priest could say anything, making the devil look mildly entertained. "My blood summoned you here?"

"You have sorcery in you, yet you do not know of your ancestral pact with me?" The pit fiend raised an eyebrow. "Curious. You mortals have ever sought power." He sniffed the air. "Ah, you have the stench of the Moonmaiden upon you. No wonder. I shall explain, then, as I'm bound to do." His voice dripped with annoyance.

"Oh great fiend, allow me," Nymolg offered, but suddenly he froze in place, confusion and shock written in his eyes. Rhyl'lyn managed to conclude that he'd been magically paralysed before the high priest was sent flying with a backhanded slap from the fiend, disappearing into the darkness.

"It's too late for the kiss-ass approach," the devil said flatly, "and while my summoner is a gentle soul that would just banish me before I could find some _real_ entertainment, I can still kill you all quicker than she can stop me." He gave a warning sound to the warriors. "You're even easier to kill than your priest. Don't push it."

"We can just kill her and then you go back home," one of those warriors growled.

A hiss followed up by a growl sounded from the pit fiend, and it took Rhyl'lyn a few seconds to realise the devil had laughed. "Try it, drow. See if I still stand here afterwards, and then try to find a way to banish me." A smirk grew on the creature's fanged face and both warriors hesitated. Hulda let out a yelp all of a sudden as she was forcibly teleported to the other side of the pit fiend and the warriors were sent flying, although not as far as Nymolg.

It was a most peculiar turn of events. A pit fiend stood in the center of a Selûnite ruin, right next to the altar at that, having snatched the upper hand from the drow with his presence alone, and the one controlling him was the only human in the area. How the tables had turned – the drow were now at the mercy of a whimsical and silly human.

Quilyl pointed his index finger at the fiend, uttering the last word of a _banishment_ spell. It dripped off of the devil like water droplets, about as effective as flinging a loaf of bread at a boulder.

Again the pit fiend chuckled and grinned. "Cute. You like abjuration almost as much as you do necromancy, I see. Indeed, under normal circumstances you could banish me. Evidence enough that you shouldn't try?" His fiendish grin widened. Quilyl backed down, visibly trembling and no doubt wondering what on earth was going on. Rhyl'lyn, too, was confused. The fiend then turned to Hulda. "You need to use your blood and draw a circle," the devil explained to her, ignoring the dark elves present. "Even the most crude and simple kind will do. Then you call my name. Orgolorth."

"Bless you," she said, her voice thick with sincerity, apparently having confused his name with a sneeze. "You said something about my blood being impure, though. What does that mean?"

"It means your ancestor could boss me around like a freshly made lemure shaped from a lowly soul bargained for at the City of Judgement," the pit fiend said with a great deal of disgust, "and by comparison, you'd be lucky if you could even get a lemure."

"But what would my blood be worth?" Hulda pressed.

The pit fiend examined her from top to toe and then snapped his fingers. Next to him, suspended in air by his own wings, an imp materialised. "Peio'xabi'farr, meet your new mistress." He grabbed the tiny thing before he could flee and held him up in front of Hulda's face. "Some members of your bloodline have grown more powerful after the age of twenty-one, so perhaps one day you will have an erinyes or a gelugon by your side." The imp gave Hulda a long stare before twisting around in his fiendish master's grip so he could look up at the pit fiend.

"Master, this one is a moon priestess," he whined.

"I know," Orgolorth snarled. "I was the first of us to be summoned by her blood."

The imp trembled from the sheer force of his master's voice. "What are my duties, master?"

"Inform her of the details of the blood pact," the pit fiend ordered, "and do everything in your power to make sure she keeps her end of the bargain." He released the little creature, who immediately flew over to Hulda and landed on her shoulder. "As for you, mortal, I know the difficulty it takes you to speak our names, so you may re-name your new servant as you wish." The imp looked thoroughly unhappy. Orgolorth's gaze swept across the area, taking in every drow present. "I can't very well leave things like this, can I? They'll kill you the second I leave."

Fear welled up inside Hulda's heart. If the pit fiend attacked them all, chances were high he'd kill Rhyl'lyn along with the rest. One drow warrior approached with his blades drawn, silently, but not silent enough. The pit fiend spotted him and had him engulfed in hell's flames. Screams of pain erupted from the drow's lips, the sight of his death making every dark elf gathered take a step back.

"Her servant might be an imp," Orgolorth said with a clear and authoritative voice, "but this mortal's life is still in my best interests to protect. For now." His gaze swept across the group of dark elves one more time. "Anyone else who wishes to try?"

The sound of galloping hooves reached their ears, and this time it was much louder than before. Jumping over debris and crumbled walls, weapons raised and rage written across their faces, a large group of centaurs stormed the ruins.

"Ooooh!" Peio'xabi'farr hooted in excitement. "Now it gets interesting!"

It was the complete opposite of everything Hulda had come there to do. A centaur skewered one drow warrior with his spear, while another horse-man was sent crashing into the ground by the joint effort of the sisters. Blades were drawn, crossbow bolts fired and a full battle broke out between drow and centaurs.

Hulda didn't waste time. All Marpenoth's Eve would soon be upon them, and the presence of the pit fiend was a guarantee for a whole army of his kind to be unleashed upon the Material Plane. The rituals she'd performed wouldn't keep the fiends trapped for long, either. Her only salvation was the Moon's Rod, which was at least enchanted. She managed to take three steps in the direction of the battle when she suddenly found herself right back where she started.

"That won't do," Orgolorth said, "you'll get yourself killed, and I won't have your soul." She shot him a confused look. "Peio'xabi'farr will explain more in detail. For now, I have some horse hybrids and dark elves to fry."

"No!" she yelled, her voice filled to the brim with despair. He ignored her – her blood gave her power over the imp, but not him, apparently.

First he summoned a ring of fire to keep anyone from escaping. One of the youngsters that Rhyl'lyn had come to save, a warrior, caught on fire. He dove to the ground, Rhyl'lyn immediately by his side, covering him in his cloak and slapping his back to put the flames out. Hulda felt a moment's relief before Rhyl'lyn himself was on fire.

Her eyes grew wide and sheer terror bubbled up inside. She looked to the pit fiend, whose clawed finger was pointed at the Vhaeraunite in question, and her terror turned into cold determination. The centaurs seemed to share that sentiment, focusing their attention on this new enemy. While the devil was distracted with the battle, she jumped forth, crashing into a drow that was unfortunate enough to stand in the way, and then rushed over to Rhyl'lyn's side.

She called upon Selûne's power, successfully dousing the flames, and then caught him as he fell, the scent of burnt flesh hitting her nostrils. Ending up squatting, with a barely conscious Rhyl'lyn in her arms, she cast one healing spell after another. His scarred flesh became skin once more, the warrior regained consciousness and their eyes met for just the briefest of moments. Then the reality of their surroundings caught up with them.

Hulda was forcibly teleported back to the pit fiend's side and Rhyl'lyn ended up having to dodge his flames. Amidst the chaos, a single figure sneaked up behind the fiend and the Selûnite, blade leading. Nymolg sank his enchanted sword deep into the large devil's side, putting out the ring of fire and eliciting a cry of pain from the creature. It drew Hulda's attention with the speed of a mermaid underwater and allowed several drow and centaurs to flee. She watched as the devil pulled the blade out and tossed it aside. It was a short sword, Hulda saw, the kind that Rhyl'lyn wielded.

Nymolg was fast and nimble, even by drow standards, and jumped out of the fiend's immediate reach. He smirked upon seeing the wound he'd inflicted on Orgolorth, his victory lasting a whole split second before a centaur buried a spear in his neck, its sharp point sticking out of his throat. Blood gushed forth from his mouth, nose and throat, his eyes bulging, and he reached up with his hands in a vain attempt to stem the flow. It didn't take long for his body to go limp and the spear broke from the weight of his corpse. The centaur unsheathed a longsword from his hip and cut the drow priest's head off, however. He then grabbed it and galloped around, parading the head for all to see. His fellows roared in victory, their actions informing Hulda in no small measure how they felt about him.

Orgolorth set fire to that centaur, however, but even as he died screaming, he managed to toss the drow's head over to a comrade, who mounted it on his spear and took over the task of parading it around.

"I can relay your wish for master Orgolorth to stop, if you want," the imp said to her at one point, "just make sure you word it that way."

"Why?" Hulda asked, but the imp didn't answer. Pushing him aside, she ran after the short sword. She made it to half an inch away from it when she was teleported back.

One fireball from the pit fiend scattered the drow sisters, one of whom ended up near Hulda. A very unassuming morningstar rested on the drow's hip.

Orgolorth kept a closer eye on her now, clearly aware that she was trying to sabotage him. On one side, his attention on her meant fewer roasted drow and centaurs, but on the other hand, it kept her from defeating him. She needed a distraction, just enough time to grab the morningstar and activate a power that put the spell of illumination to shame.

Rhyl'lyn came as a blessing from the Moonmaiden. Following in his high priest's footsteps, he picked up the enchanted blade and buried it deep into Orgolorth's back. The fiend hollered in pain, Hulda jumped to the morningstar and swatted the imp aside when he tried to stop her. Her hand closed around the handle and the weapon glowed. A victorious smile grew on her lips and she spun around only to see a fireball hovering above Orgolorth's hand. The pit fiend aimed and tossed it at Rhyl'lyn, who wasn't as quick as Nymolg. There was an explosion of flames and then the warrior lay very still.

Shock, disbelief and grief all mixed within her and sent tears running down her cheeks. Her legs buckled under her and she could only watch as the pit fiend went on a rampage. Soon he could call upon his forces. Soon he could destroy this place and move on to the rest of the region – and he would make her watch as he did so. She didn't control him, she could only summon him.

His words from before struck her with the force of a hammer's blow. _"My summoner is a gentle soul that would just banish me before I could find some_ real _entertainment."_

She could banish him.

Hovering in the air next to her once more was the imp. She grabbed him roughly and glared into his eyes with the desperation of someone with nothing left to lose. For just that moment, the little devil knew not to test his luck. "You were to tell me about this blood pact. Talk."

 

 

* * *

 

Orgolorth was getting bored. Sure enough, the drow's blade had proven painful and dangerous, but with the chaos he'd sown, no-one but the priestess' boyfriend was bold enough to try stabbing him again. He felt the time draw close – soon the veil would be at its thinnest and his forces could pour through. Hulda was teleported back to his side – she could run around all she wanted, but her blood always gave her position away. She could never truly escape him. Orgolorth knew the weapon in her hand was well-suited for fighting undead, but did nothing to him. He found the situation had become quite advantageous to him after all.

Hulda was quiet, which was odd considering how the fiend was wreaking destruction upon a site sacred to her goddess, though the devil wrote it down to her grief over the dark elf's death. Peio'xabi'farr would inform him if something was off, but had the pit fiend looked closer, he would have noticed the imp was no longer on the Material Plane. So engrossed was he in his own work that when he smelled Hulda's blood, it was too late.

Standing by the altar, blood dripping from her hand and the morningstar, which she'd clearly used to cut herself with, she'd crossed the circle used to summon him with an X on the marble slab and uttered his name backwards. She even held out her holy symbol, the mark of Selûne, calling upon her goddess to fuel the spell. There was no need, though – Orgolorth knew the X was enough to banish him. His eyes filled with disbelief, even as he disintegrated from sight, called back to his home plane by the power of the pact.

Hulda let out a sigh – now she had only fellow mortals to worry about. The drow and centaurs were too busy fleeing, so she stumbled over to Rhyl'lyn's lifeless form, crashing down beside him and examining his burnt form with trembling hands.

He groaned and stirred, much to her relief and surprise, but her joy was short-lived. He was badly wounded, almost as bad as the first time Orgolorth set him on fire. Apart from some holy water and a lesser blessing spell that she could channel into healing energy, she had nothing that could restore him to the way he'd been. She couldn't teleport them anywhere without her teleportation ring, and without the communication pendant she couldn't contact Solyn. Not that this would stop her – after doing what she could for Rhyl'lyn, she covered him in her cloak and left him by the altar. The Moon's Rod had one last power – there was an indent in the marble where the morningstar's handle would fit. She placed the weapon in that circle, focused her will upon it and held her holy symbol above the pointed, round tip. " _Oh Moonmaiden fair, Selûne, Selûne, Selûne! Hear your servant's call and grant me your gift!_ " It would drain her of all her arcane spells, but it would be worth it.

Selûne's power burned through the weapon, but Hulda wasn't harmed. The fires were doused, debris cleared so the remaining drow and centaurs could flee and the entire area was bathed in white moonlight. Hulda felt the song resonate in her heart, mind and soul, and it brought tears to her eyes. The smell of brimstone disappeared from the area and only crisp, fresh air remained. Her arms trembled as she felt the last bit of magic in her disappear. She let go of both weapon and symbol and they remained in place, held aloft by the power of the Moonmaiden.

With the place now safe and Selûne lighting up the area, Hulda easily found her magical items. She scraped her hands in the process, but it was a small price to pay to save a guy who'd jumped into infernal flames to save her. Once the remaining area was blessed, she sat down next to Rhyl'lyn's unconscious form. Holding his hand, she put her ring on and teleported them both to Silverymoon.


	3. Rubbing it in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not exactly _rubbing_ it in, but when a drow gets naked for you, what else is a clumsy moon witch to do? Especially when she's got oil all over her hands already-  how did that get there?
> 
> And so things are finished off at the temple in Silverymoon, with body massages, horse urine, bunny ears and overweight caravans. Also, Hulda's dress makes for an excellent towel. Just ask her brothers.

The awkward silence in the courtyard was almost palpable. To say the drow had been surprised at the Selûnite catching him trying to sneak out of the city would be an understatement. Out of all the things she could do, spotting him in his most natural element was the last thing he'd expected. Yet she'd summoned to bear heatless flames that surrounded his body – a power he, too, commanded due to his heritage, and so he knew not to fear them - and thereby turned him into a walking lantern, effectively ruining his plan to escape. Now he stood there, outlined by _faerie fire_ and the light of the waning moon, with Hulda facing him down.

"What do you want?" Rhyl'lyn asked, his tone more harsh than he intended to. Hulda's lower lip trembled and a sad look came to her eyes, making him feel a small portion of regret otherwise uncharacteristic to him. "I'm fully healed, and now I'm leaving so I won't be a burden to you with the city watch." He paused slightly before continuing. "I... appreciate what you've done... thank you."

A small smile grew on Hulda's lips. "Technically, it was high priestess Solyn who healed you."

The warrior frowned. He didn't like the thought of being indebted to a surface elf. "But you brought me here, to... save my life."

"Of course," she said, her smile widening and her eyes growing wet. "There's no way I'd leave behind a guy who jumps into hellish flames to save me." She threw him a wink. Rhyl'lyn felt his cheeks heat up, but he didn't understand why.

"The pit fiend was a threat to everyone," he said in a non-committing fashion, feeling more than a little awkward all of a sudden, and the nonchalant shrug he attempted didn't help matters. Even though his physical wounds were healed, his muscles were still tense and sore from all the fighting, and the simple movement of shrugging sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder and down his side. His arm tensed up and it took him several long seconds of waiting for the pain to go away. Not that he showed it on his face, of course, but Hulda saw it in his movement all the same, judging from the concern that appeared in her eyes. Annoyance welled up inside him – why did she have to worry about him so much?

"We do perform massages, you know," she offered. He didn't meet her gaze, stubbornly looking for an excuse – any excuse – to leave. His feelings confused him, but he knew she was the cause behind them, so the sooner he cut things off between them, the better. Naturally, he'd have to pray like a mad-drow to Vhaeraun to not let his paths cross with hers again, maybe even commit a sacrifice that would reduce Hulda to tears should she ever find out about it. Somehow that last thought bothered him more than he cared to admit. "You don't have to leave right now. The city guards don't waltz into our temple to look for dark elves to arrest, and certainly not on the basis of them being, well, drow."

"But I _am_ a follower of Vhaeraun," he pressed.

She shrugged. "So? That's not a crime in this city." Rhyl'lyn wasn't convinced. "You had _one_ bad experience in Luskan, which is a pirating water hole full of unlawful scum that want to see you hang just because they're bored."

"This place is full of protective wards against drow," he countered, a discovery he'd made a late night as he walked around the temple, shortly after recovering. While he wasn't affected by them, he still recognised the insignia used for his race specifically, and he didn't like it.

"Against _evil_ drow," she argued back, her eyes displaying the stubbornness with which he'd come to know all too well. A headache was sure to follow. "You're not evil, Rhyl'lyn, and neither are this city's leaders and law enforcers. If they were anything like what you're used to, would I even live here? Would Selûne's worship be tolerated? Just think of how the clerics have treated you since you got here. Also, though he's probably a horrible example of a drow male to you, Drizzt Do'Urden can walk the streets here openly, and whatever your opinion of him is, he still shares with you the physical traits of a drow." She paused for a split second. "Well, save the eye colour."

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I can never leave properly with you, can I?"

She pouted. "A proper leaving includes farewells and the notion that maybe we'll meet again some day."

A deep-seated sigh escaped his lips and his eyes went inadvertently to the night sky, with its many bright stars shining down on him. He always found it relaxing to do so, and that, in turn, helped clear his mind. The answer he arrived at, however, wasn't one that supported his original idea. When he looked back down, it was with defeat in his eyes. "Very well, but it better be you who does the massage. No way will I let any of the other clerics near me, no matter how open-minded they are."

Hulda's eyes grew wide, and for a moment she was very quiet. A blush grew on her cheeks and she opened her mouth to speak, but the best she could do was babble incoherently. Rhyl'lyn felt his own cheeks flare up, but it didn't bother him so much this time, seeing as she was suffering with him – and on her pale cheeks, it was fully visible, unlike his own. She cleared her throat, but didn't meet his gaze. "Follow me, then."

 

 

* * *

 

 

For all the confusing feelings between them, Hulda remained professional. Rhyl'lyn quietly complimented her on her skills when he rolled his shoulders and the sharp pain from before had become nothing but a dull ache. A good night's rest and he'd be fine. He considered his options as he got dressed – he could leave while Hulda had her back turned. That might create another scenario like before, but on the other hand, he really couldn't stay. Despite Hulda's insistence that he wasn't evil, something he reluctantly agreed with, he still belonged to Silverymoon's definition of the "wrong" side. His past as a fighter aside, he served a god of _thieves_. _Drow_ thieves.

It was best he left. He made for the door only for it to swing wide and the elf woman named Solyn stepped inside. The sight of her hit him in the prejudice muscle and the disgust came to his face before he could stop himself. If she noticed it, she didn't show it, but she remained in the doorway, effectively blocking his exit. "Hulda, there seems to be a problem."

The aforementioned priestess turned around and shot Solyn a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

"It has to do with me, doesn't it?" Rhyl'lyn asked before the fairy could answer. "I'm on my way out anyway, so that should solve-"

"No, why would it have anything to do with you?" Solyn fired back, effectively rendering him silent with her surprised tone of voice and expression. The drow had many reasons to name, but none of them would pop into his mind. As the silence wore on, the high priestess focused her attention back on Hulda. "It's nothing too serious, but your family wants you, Hulda. There seems to be some trouble with deliveries."

"Well, I'd be surprised if anyone delivered anything this late," Hulda agreed. "Raids are far too common in the dark."

Solyn shook her head. "No, you misunderstand. The trade caravans aren't delayed because of raids. They've arrived with more goods than originally accounted for."

 

 

* * *

 

Two tall, Illuskan men, one with the same hair colour as Hulda and big muscles, and the other with hair the same colour as Rhyl'lyn's skin, met Hulda outside the temple. Rhyl'lyn kept his distance, easily spotting the family resemblance between the woman and her brothers. The last thing he needed was to meet her relatives – being at the temple of Selûne was awkward enough. He was shoved rather unceremoniously out the door by Solyn and a couple of other elves, though, and before he knew it he was shaking hands with the big and burly one who introduced himself as Harald.

"I see we have you to thank for our sister's continued survival," the considerably thinner man said. He introduced himself as Jonas.

"Not exactly," Rhyl'lyn said in an unusual moment of blunt honesty, but instead of taking offense or jumping to the wrong conclusions, the men merely laughed.

"It's true," Jonas said once the worst of their laughter died down. "No matter how much trouble Hulda manages to cause or attract, she always gets out of it again with little damage."

"She might be a follower of Selûne," Harald added, "but Tymora sure loves to push her around."

"As shocking as it was to us that our little sister became a priestess," Jonas supplied further, "it was even more so that she would be so greatly favoured."

"It just proves the Moonmaiden has a sense of humour," Harald finished with a serious nod. Then they laughed some more, until Hulda sprayed them in their faces with a liquid that greatly resembled water, but for some reason made the two men look thoroughly disgusted. Rhyl'lyn spotted two glass bottles in her hands.

"Please tell me that was water," Jonas begged.

Hulda, all amusement and cheerfulness gone from her face – an expression Rhyl'lyn had never before seen on the woman – remained dead serious as she spoke. "Horse urine."

If Jonas and Harald had looked miserable before, the looks on their faces were priceless now. Normally, Rhyl'lyn appreciated good pranks, but he was new to this sibling relationship, not to mention the entire situation. Harald practically assaulted the sorceress with a battle roar on his lips and chased her around the temple's courtyard until he managed to catch her. She was dumped unceremoniously on his shoulder and brought over to a viciously grinning Jonas.

Rhyl'lyn had seen that grin before, on matron mothers plotting their punishments of disobedient males. Hulda squirmed around in her brother's grip, but her attempts were futile. The drow moved before he could remind himself that Hulda's brothers were nothing like matron mothers, but he never reached them. A ranger serving the church tackled him to the ground. The big bear of a man sat on him, effectively preventing him from moving. All he could do was watch as Harald reached Jonas and patted Hulda on the back. "I brought us a towel, brother."

"Ah, good," Jonas said with no small amount of amusement and wiped his face on Hulda's dress. Harald then turned around so Hulda came face to face with him. Jonas picked out a leather-bound book, flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for and uttered a few words while waving his hand in the air. Sheer terror came to Hulda's face, making Rhyl'lyn squirm to get free. The ranger merely placed his large hand on his shoulder and he could no longer move. Jonas' spell was cast and next thing they knew, Hulda had white, fluffy ears pop out on top of her head.

"Not the bunny ears!" Hulda wailed and hid her face in her hands. "Jonas, you asshole! I hate you!" Harald and Jonas chuckled at their sister's predicament, but that seemed to be all there was to the punishment. Hulda blushed madly, but was neither in pain nor crying. Rhyl'lyn calmed down considerably, something the ranger must have sensed, because he got up and more or less pulled the drow back on his feet.

"Harald and Jonas would never harm their sister," the ranger said to him. "Embarrass and humiliate her, yes, and prank and crack jokes about her, most certainly, but never harm her. They love her too much for that."

Rhyl'lyn blinked, feeling confused. His own experience with siblings was that of carefully plotted murder in order to advance themselves in the political sphere. This was the first time he'd met siblings that were so relaxed around each other. Harald kept spinning Hulda around, shouting "don't worry, we won't tell mum you brought a drow home with you".

"Really," Jonas added, "what's next? An illithid? Are you going to befriend a balor?"

The drow piped in. "We're not friends." Harald immediately stopped his spinning to fix the dark elf with a shocked look, his brother matching it perfectly. Rhyl'lyn blinked, confused. Hulda looked dizzy.

"Hulda..." Jonas clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"We really shouldn't tell dad, either," Harald said with a disturbingly serious expression. "He'll murder the drow for sure." Rhyl'lyn balked, his confusion magnifying. What had he said that was so offensive?

"Stop jumping to the wrong conclusions, you idiots!" Hulda yelled and was placed back on the ground. She looked suitably miffed, her cheeks still red and her bunny ears still on top of her head, but she was no longer occupied with hiding her face. "He saved my life, and I decided to return the favour. That's why he's in Silverymoon."

"Oh come now, sis, you always had a soft spot for the odd ones," Jonas said with a teasing smile.

Harald nodded. "The more hurt and wounded, the better."

Rhyl'lyn stared at the three siblings, noticing how Hulda wasn't even denying what they said. So he was just the next wounded freak in line, then?

"Doesn't mean I don't care about them," she countered, words that for unknown reasons made the drow's heart skip a beat. "It's just that our paths have crossed several times and we've interacted a bit. So what if he's a drow?"

The two men held up their hands in defeat. "We never said there was anything wrong with that," Harald said. "Quite the contrary. There's no-one in our family who can match you in stubborn caring."

"Except maybe mother," Jonas argued, to which Harald nodded his agreement. "So if half-drow nieces and nephews are what we can expect from you, then so be it."

Hulda glared and Rhyl'lyn was mortified. "I told you not to jump to the wrong conclusions," the blonde huffed, her face beet red, which only served to make her brothers laugh all the more. "Didn't you two come here to report about a caravan carrying too much goods?"

Their laughter died away. "Actually, mother is handling that," Jonas confessed. "We came here to see you."

"We haven't seen you in two tendays," Harald complained. "Ever since you started training with the moon witches..." He shook his head.

"...you've missed me?" Hulda looked up at them with a pout, hiding her hands behind her back. There it was, a silly attempt to look endearing. Rhyl'lyn still didn't understand why so many human women did that. It wasn't even remotely charming. Harald and Jonas didn't seem to mind, in fact they grinned like idiots and shouted "yes" before pulling their sister in for a bone-crushing group hug.

Rhyl'lyn got the feeling there was more to this scene than just the foreign concept of siblings caring for each other, but he chose not to ask. It was none of his business anyway. In fact, this was a good time for him to slink away, so he did. Nobody seemed to notice or care. Following the map he'd seen and memorised in the temple, he found his way to the front gates, slipped past the guards at just the right time and disappeared into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Hulda Swanmantle, Rhyl'lyn Zinard, Nymolg, Solyn, Jhanbaste, Quilyl, Shur'niss & Aun'Kacha_ © SnippetsRUs
> 
>  _Forgotten Realms_ © _Wizards of the Coast and Hasbro_


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